Chapter 5: Welcome To U.A.
As the weeks passed and the results of the entrance exam were announced, the day finally came for Izumi to bid farewell to her old school. The meeting itself was unremarkable, except for the principal's repeated comments about how much of a "miracle" it was that she had been accepted into U.A. No, what truly had Izumi on edge was something else—the fact that she wasn't the only one from her school chosen for the prestigious academy.
"Deku!" Bakugou screamed the moment they were out of earshot.. He had been tailing her ever since they left the building. "What kind of dirty trick did you pull, you Quirkless trash?! I was supposed to be the one going to U.A., and now it's all ruined! I told you to stay out of my way!"
Without warning, Bakugou attacked, his body slamming forward as he reached for her throat, trying to shove the girl into the shadows of a nearby alley. But Izumi reacted instinctively, slapping his wrist away with enough force to make him grunt in pain. She could've pinned him, slammed him into the wall if she wanted to—but provoking Bakugou would be like tickling a shotgun, and she wasn't sure she could defeat him without using One For All.
Bakugou froze, staring at his own hand, momentarily stunned. This was the second time she'd stood up to him. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he grasped for the first thought that formed in his mind. He threw a punch at her—a wild, reckless right hook.
But Bakugou didn't know how to punch. He never needed to learn.
Izumi's fist connected with his chin before he even realized it, forcing him back, his body trembling as he recoiled a few steps. Compared to training with All Might, the boy felt weightless, as if he were made of cotton.
Izumi didn't say a word. There was nothing to say. Without giving him a glance, she turned and walked away, leaving him behind in the alley. She had her own path to follow now—there was no time for her to waste on his tantrums.
"Midoriya…"
As Izumi approached the door of class 1A, the sharp sound of screams from within gave her pause. Her stomach knotted with doubts. Should she even step in? When the door finally slid open, the entire class turned to stare at her late arrival, eyes curious or indifferent. But one student moved toward her immediately: the boy with short, blue hair from the entrance exam—Tenya Iida.
"You saw through the exam's guidelines," Iida declared abruptly, bowing with formal precision. "I misjudged you! If I had been more observant… No, the truth is, you're better than me."
"Eh?" Izumi can only smile awkwardly.
What is this psycho talking about?!
Before she could process his words, a new voice chimed in.
"Oh, curly hair! Just the person I wanted to see!"
Izumi turned to find herself trapped in between Iida's rambling apology and Uraraka's buoyant energy, her warm grin practically beaming. For a moment, Izumi felt overwhelmed by the sudden attention, but relief came swiftly as their homeroom teacher arrived, silencing the room.
To call their teacher odd would have been generous. Mr. Aizawa stood at the front of the class like a slouching shadow, his entire body wrapped in a cocoon of scarves. With his unkempt hair and tired eyes, he resembled more of a hobo than a teacher at U.A. But as soon as class began, he wasted no time on pleasantries.
"The first thing in my program is a test of your limits," he said, his tone flat, but the threat of what followed made everyone sit up straighter. "Whoever places last will be expelled."
What followed was a brutal test of their limits. Each student was pushed through a series of simple exercises to gauge how well they could perform with their Quirks. And just like that, what could've been a simple, enjoyable evaluation turned into a high-stakes game, with the looming threat of expulsion hanging over. And so, they trained. For three relentless weeks, everyone threw themselves into the challenge, pushing their abilities to the breaking point as creatively as they could, desperate not to lose their shot at becoming heroes.
Izumi, with her athletic build and after an entire year of rigorous training, consistently ranked above the class average—even without using One For All. But not everyone was doing as well. One student, in particular, had struggled from the start, quickly falling to the bottom of the rankings on every test.
"Um… Katana girl?" Izumi mumbled awkwardly. They hadn't spoken before.
The girl, short and lean, her small face framed by pale-blue hair, turned around with a desperate look in her eyes. Izumi found her sitting alone in the changing room after class, clutching her phone so tightly it seemed like she was trying to crush it. She was clearly on the verge of tears.
"M-Miwa... Kasumi Miwa," the girl stammered, her voice trembling. "B-but you can just call me 'Useless Miwa' now." She wiped her face with her sleeve, trying to hide her frustration. "I-I never got to thank you. If it hadn't been for you during the exam… I wouldn't even be here. But I guess I wasn't meant for this after all."
The defeat on her voice cut deeply through Izumi's defenses, and she couldn't help but step closer,
"I'm sorry," Izumi said softly. "But... can I ask what your Quirk is?"
The day of reckoning had finally come, but on the surface, nothing seemed to have changed. Some students possessed abilities that allowed them to shatter human limits as if they were mere suggestions. Others had to squeeze every drop of effort from Quirks that barely fit their teacher's rigid, one-dimensional expectations.
And then, there was Miwa—the unluckiest of them all.
Her Quirk was simply useless in such exercises. And other than that, she had spent her life honing her skills with a katana, but that didn't build the raw muscle needed to match her classmates in a contest of brute strength or speed. Today would be no different—at least, that's what she thought.
As Miwa approached the field for her final test, dread weighed heavily on her chest. The softball felt like the last thread holding her dream of being a hero. She stepped up, ready to make a throw no stronger than an average human's, ready to throw in the towel on her future.
But Izumi had something to say.
"Wait! Mr. Aizawa, I'd like to request a duel!"
The air crackled with surprise.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeh?!"
A collective gasp erupted from the class, but none were more shaken than Miwa herself. Her eyes widened in disbelief, almost as if she would prefer walking away in silence than enduring the attention. Aizawa, though caught off guard, let a grin appear across his face, the kind that sent a chill through the room.
"A duel?" His voice was a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Explain yourself, Midoriya."
Izumi held her ground, even as the nerves clawed at her legs. "Simple. Both you and Miwa have Quirks that negate others' abilities. If you can't defeat her, then how can you claim you deserve to stay at U.A. either, Mr. Eraser Head?"
Her words hung in the air, sharp and precise. Izumi forced a smile, though her dislike for the man flickered behind her eyes. She had heard stories about Aizawa, like she had about every hero, but his teaching methods—his cold detachment—rubbed her the wrong way. After all, the man in front of her knew first-hand that a Quirk could make all the difference.
"Kasumi, is that true?" Aizawa turned, his eyes piercing through the girl.
Miwa swallowed hard. "Y-Yes! My Simple Domain... it stops people from using their Quirks… if I'm close enough!"
Aizawa thought for a moment, then finally answered. "Fine by me."
He stepped forward, wrapping his scarf-like bandages around the softball with casual precision. Despite his appearance, Aizawa knew more than anyone the cruelty of a world that rewarded raw power over ingenuity. Over the years, he had faced a hundred opponents that overpowered him by little more than existing. There were limits to everyone, Aizawa knew that well. But still, he had carved his place as a hero, with nothing more than human determination.
He spun, launching the ball with a single motion. It sailed through the air, farther than any regular human would be able to manage—150 meters.
Watching the numbers, Miwa's knees nearly buckled.
"Alright, let's end this—"
"Not yet!" Izumi's voice rang out. She rushed back into the building, returning moments later with a large, cumbersome bag slung over her shoulder. She crouched, assembling what appeared to be a long, bazooka-like cannon.
"There!" Izumi finally said, placing the object in Miwa's hands. "Give it a go!"
"What's the meaning of this, Midoriya?!" Aizawa barked, his eyes flashing red as his Quirk flared, ready to shut her down.
But Izumi didn't flinch. "Eraser Head. Strength: 50. Resistance: 40. Mobility: 50—A hero known for avoiding the spotlight. He relies on martial arts and support gear to take down villains."
Despite his rage, Aizawa couldn't help but chuckle.
"You used your support item," Izumi continued, locking eyes with him. "So by your own rules, anything is allowed."
Aizawa's lips twitched into a smirk. "Clever."
With a nod from Izumi, Miwa lifted the makeshift cannon onto her shoulder, her hands trembling but determined. She fired. The ball soared—200 meters, just shy of the mark advertised online.
Izumi let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. For a brief moment, relief washed over her. They had done it. But before they could celebrate, Aizawa's voice sliced through their victory.
"Midoriya." His tone was low, stern. "I hope you're not under the illusion that I'm going to let this little stunt slide."
Izumi froze. "But that—"
"You're smart, I'll give you that," he said, taking a step forward, eyes narrowing. "But smart doesn't mean you get to bend the rules to your will. You haven't used your Quirk once during these exercises."
Her throat tightened. She could feel the weight of every gaze.
"Normally, I'd expel you on the spot," Aizawa continued. "But I'm feeling generous today. So, I'll give you three choices."
"Option one: you walk away. Option two: you choose someone else to take your place and I expel them instead. Or option three..." His eyes gleamed with challenge. "You make a better throw than mine—without that fancy cannon of yours."
Izumi felt a moment of doubt grow at the edges of her resolve, but deep down, the answer was already clear.
"Fine."
She stepped forward, leaning down to grab one of the softballs. If that was the only way, then hesitation had no place in her heart. She gritted her teeth, swinging her arm back, calling upon the power deep within—the strength she had just learned to borrow. For a second, power surged through her arm like fire, only to flicker and vanish just as quickly.
Confusion swirled in her mind, and her gaze moved back to Aizawa.
He had erased her Quirk.
"How am I—"
"How are you supposed to do anything without blowing up your own arm?" he interrupted, his voice weary as he groaned. "You're so quick to save everyone else, you don't even stop to think about saving yourself. What's the point of me wasting time training you if you're going to end up as nothing more than a burden?"
His words hit her like a punch to the gut.
"The world needs heroes, not victims," Aizawa continued, his tone colder now. "So find a way, or go home."
He was right—how could she hope to be a hero if she couldn't even protect herself from her own power? She couldn't just keep relying on others to save her every time her Quirk backfired.
But there was still a way. A small, desperate way.
She drew in a deep breath. One finger. One broken finger would be enough.
Gritting her teeth, she opened her fist, focusing all of her power into a single digit. She swung her arm again, this time with precision, releasing the ball as the energy crackled around her hand. Pain shot through her, but the ball shot through the sky, going higher, farther than she had ever imagined.
The field went silent as the ball disappeared on the horizon.
Izumi stood there, panting, looking back at the teacher, her finger throbbing with pain but her heart full of pride.
No one was expelled that day.
After the grueling day, Izumi showered, letting the water wash away the tension from her muscles. Once done, she slipped away from the rest of the class, her mind still buzzing from everything that had happened. Over the past three weeks, she had slowly adjusted to living on the school grounds, and sneaking in and out of the dorms had become a routine. After all, the project still hadn't been announced, and the building was kept deliberately unguarded, giving off the illusion of abandonment. The first floor, however, had already been completed and quietly remodeled.
As she made her way down the path, lost in thought, she heard a familiar voice.
"Izumi! Izumi!"
Izumi barely had time to react before Miwa nearly tackled her, burying her face into her chest. The sudden closeness made Izumi tense up, her instincts flaring.
"You really did it! Thank goodness!" Miwa's voice was muffled as she nuzzled her forehead against Izumi.
Too close. Too close. Too close. Way too close.
"E-eh, it was not that big of a deal…" Izumi murmured, her face heating up. "Honestly, when I think about it, I get the feeling Mr. Aizawa never intended to expel any of us. It was probably just a trick to push us to do our best…"
Miwa froze, her grip loosening. She finally pulled back, pouting. "Aaaa… That does make sense. But still, a teacher shouldn't lie to us like that!" She crossed her arms before breaking into a smile. "Anyway, are you heading to the station? We could go home together!"
"S-Sure…" Izumi replied, not knowing what to say.
And just like that, Izumi started to walk away from her room. What she hadn't expected was for their group to double in size before they reached the main entrance.
"Midoriya!" Iida's voice boomed from behind. He approached, hand hovering near her shoulder before he stepped back, his posture rigid. "Is your finger healed?"
"Y-Yes, thanks to Recovery Girl." Izumi smiled nervously, her mind recalling her warning.
'Keep doing this, and your body will run out of energy until it dies.'
"Heeeeeeeeeeey! You three! Wait for me!" Uraraka's energetic voice reached them just before her.
"U-Uraraka?"
"I'm Uraraka Ochako!" she said, then pointed at each of them. "And you're… Tenya Iida, Kazumi Miwa, and… Midoriya Deku!"
"Deku?!" Izumi recoiled.
"Y-Yeah? That's what that blonde guy kept yelling at the track field earlier. 'Die, Deku, Die!'" Uraraka mimicked him, punching the air with a laugh.
Izumi scratched the back of her head awkwardly. "T-That's just something he says to make fun of me. It kind of means… 'useless.'"
"Oooooh," Uraraka nodded, then brightened. "But 'Deku' sounds a lot like the word for 'You can do it!'"
Miwa suddenly jumped in. "People called me 'Useless' back at my old school too! Deku Miwa, ready for duty! He-Heh~" She gave a mock salute
They're all crazy, huh… Izumi thought, but despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips. Walking with them felt… comfortable. For the first time in a while, she realized how much she missed the simple feeling of laughing with others.
Fifteen minutes passed in easy conversation and laughter, but as they neared the station, Izumi knew she had to make her way back to the campus before the sun went down. She quickly made up an excuse and slipped away, a bittersweet feeling settling in her chest as she left them behind.
I've decided to make some heavy changes to chapter 1, since it looks like most people who clicked on the story never made it to chapter 2.
Thinking about it, it probably wasn't the brightest idea to introduce the story with a lengthy recap of what already happened on the anime without adding anything new that showcased the reasons why this fanfic even exists, but I was hoping people wouldn't mind a twenty-minute introduction too much…
Yeah... turns out I was wrong, huh.